Purifying the Impure
by damonsalvahoe
Summary: Who is the dark figure invading her thoughts?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everybody! So, this is my first, hopefully successful fic.**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy it! :)**

**Chapter 1**

_The man sighed. She sighed._

_"This is bloody irritating," the man quipped, the dull rim of his nails nipping his palm._

_Her lips thinned as another complaint shattered the comfortable silence that she had grown quite accustomed to. Her wary, typical brown eyes lingered on the illumination of the crescent moon, inhaling the odd sight before allowing it to settle on the man beside her._

_Hermione's eyes observed and observed the young man. Her mind had presumed wrong, and her eyes were left to confront the truth . Her mind expected the normality of a man's features, but her eyes revealed a dark, undefined figure. She saw nothing with the exception of the physical outline of the lanky figure. The rigid outline contributed nothing to her mental state._

_Though, her mind analyzed the situation, her outward appearance abided with casualty. As if she had saw nothing odd at all._

_The heated tension gradually rose, laced with penetrating irritation; Hermione having a relevant frown to display as a crude warning to him if he continued with the relentless wasn't sure if she'd survive another one from the man._

_You'd think after ensuing four months of rounds, he'd grow wonted of it. Apparently not. It was as if it was his life's mission to ensure her misery._

_"Then, you should of settled being partners with Hannah Abbott, but apparently, you weren't capable of having the propriety to tolerate a 'bloody mugglepuff'," Hermione huffed, suppressing the protruding urge to smack his almighty face._

_She felt his dark eyes narrow at her head, the hairs on the nape of her neck standing stiff. "I should have of accepted the mugglepuff. It's much better than accompanying a mudblood," he retorted curtly._

_Her head snapped towards his direction. The insufferable git, she thought. Though, the anger ceased as quickly as it ignited at the startling confrontation with his befuddling appearance. She still couldn't __**see **__him. Again, she said nothing concerning his appearance. In truth, Hermione wasn't allowed to say anything about it._

_"You're simply aggravated with yourself. You won't admit to the fact, that I receive higher marks than you do whilst my blood is apparently, 'impure.'"_

_Hermione felt the smirk of the young man wax, the unintentional proclamation hidden in her words becoming noted to her._

_"You said it."_

_She was nearly ready to tear his head off._

_"You are incorrigible, you prejudiced wanker!"_

* * *

Hermione gasped.

"You sleep like the rudy dead when you rest, 'Mione," a hearty voice mused as the rustling of clamoring objects collided with each other. Hermione's aggravation did not rest.

The brunette inwardly groaned as her eyes dismissed the blurry haze, finding herself focusing on the youngest Weasley.

Her bushy brows knitted tightly together, forming a subtle crease between her eyebrows. The crease between her brows had found itself a home due to the consistent stress she was given. _Thanks to the previous year,_ she thought sarcastically.

She shifted herself to settle lying on her rear side; her eyelids contended, the fatigue was not cooperating with her need to awaken genuinely. The limpid flashes of her bright surroundings were the profound method to the predicament. Hermione had definitely woken up with what her eyes had perceived.

"Ginny," she breathed. "What's the need for..."

Oh crap.

Luggages were rudely candid due to the fact that they were wide open and laid comfortably on her foot much to Hermione's chagrin. Women's clothing with the exception of undergarments were sprawled to conceal every inch of the wooden floor as well as the foot of the bed. Her uniform laid idly beside her, evincing the presumption she had formed with the objects before her.

_Oh crap._

The realization had inflicted such an immense impact, which led Hermione to burst in the frantic, incoherent ramblings. She jostled the covers off of her, pushing to her feet. Her hair was wild, reflecting her eyes. Hermione's clothes were traditional, cotton pajamas, everything a gentle shade of sky blue from the shoulder down. Molly had given them to her due to her lack of clothes which she had taken in deep appreciation. The expansion of her curly hair was definitely not appreciated, but there was little to do to repair. Though, her appearance was the least of her concerns.

It was her first day as a 7th year at Hogwarts and she had awoken quite late. Though, it appeared as her definition of 'late' wasn't exactly the proper definition compared to others.

"Settle down, Hermione," Ginny assured. "You have plenty of time despite the fact that _I _was the first to wake," she chuckled, swiping her bright auburn her to the right of her shoulder.

Her eyes flamed with resolute panic. "You didn't have the decency to waken me?"

She merely shrugged in response, the silence folding away the tension that Hermione consisted of. "I assumed you were fondly dreaming of something that I wouldn't venture to interrupt," Ginny simply quipped as a matter-of-factly.

What? She arched a quizzical brow. Hermione opened and closed her mouth a number of times.

"What are you talking about?"

Ginny threw her a frisky glare. "You were smiling. Have you finally gotten shagged? Though, if that's the case," she said, displaying a sly grin, "then it technically doesn't qualify as a genuine shag, 'Mione."

She continued to look thrown off, for that dream was nowhere near pleasant. It irritated her to no ends, having no indication that she wasn't going to be able to disclose the dark, masked man. Perhaps, she were merely restless due to her not having knowledge about who received the position of Head Boy. Or she was dotting over how the year would develop due to Harry and Ron leaving her to fend for herself at Hogwarts.

Hermione silently cursed her thoughts for indirectly referring to Harry and Ron for her apprehensiveness. Despite the fact that those two were partially the reason for her mental downfall.

Evidently, it was entirely rational for Harry and Ron to venture off in search of horcruxes, but not for serene Hermione. And, for the Order to finalize the decision! The bushy, auburn-haired woman was the patent brains of every operation the trio operated and every, single operation was successfully prosecuted. Though, it might of narrowly worked, it still worked. They've left her aside from the action to shield Hogwarts.

She had every right to be there alongside the two. They were lost without her, excluding her modesty. Hermione supposed it was the best resolution made for her, though her heart yearned to be elsewhere.

Though, Hermione didn't know the reason for her subconscious's selection for her dream. Though, the one fact she was infinitely certain of was that she was strangely amused of it.

It was odd. Odd was the accurate word to describe what she felt.

As if she was floating in undefined memories, having Hermione to witness something that she didn't have any part of.

"And, every time I shook you, you refused and resumed back to your position," Ginny added, raising both of her brows at her.

Hermione mimicked her actions, shaking her head afterwards. "Never mind that. When are we headed to King's Cross?" She asked, attempting to switch the curious subject.

"A quarter after 10."

"What time is it now?"

"10:05."

Hermione blanched. "Ginny! You should of woken me up earlier regardless!"

"I'm not at fault because you wouldn't wake because you were too busy being shagged senseless!" Ginny laughed in response.

"You truly are Fred and George's little sister," she remarked, hurrying towards her luggage, hurling familiar materials inside.

"Of course," she simply said. "Now, hustle! We have a rudy train to catch."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there! Hope you enjoy!**

**And, I hope to have reviews on this chapter, please. :)**

Platfrom 9 ¾. It was to be the final time they would arrive at the discreet platform. Others weren't as fortunate to have the opportunity to see the platform at last time, but the ones who actually were given the chance to visit, didn't exactly perceive it as fortunate. Not exactly the precise word to describe it.

The war was inevitable. They all knew it. Though, what they didn't understand was every intricate, defining detail of the foreboding war.

They were completely oblivious whether if they were the one to be lying motionless on a murky mat next or whether their companions were to be recruited as Death Eaters and they were the ones to deliver their imminent deaths. There were a variety of latent possibilities that only a mere fool would consist of the haughtiness to be able to prosecute these perilous schemes. It was frightening, but nowhere near impossible.

Those schemes were applied literally everywhere due to the amount of blunt idiots who thought they would profit out of it. The schemes granted power whilst the majority of people to be unwillingly persuaded to your side, and basically, change. Complexity of adaptations grew rather fond of rummaging for new wiles to incorporate in their disorderly catastrophe. Though, that was only a minority.

Wizards and witches were being struck at the heart. Their homes were gone.

Hogwarts wasn't perceived as welcoming anymore. It wasn't a place to welcome you home. It just wasn't.

Hermione knew it. Everyone knew it. Though, the groups that bred in order to contribute in defeating You-Know-Who understood that it was only Harry Potter that could finalize their futures.

She only wished that she was able to help her fellow friend, but her attention was directed elsewhere.

It was her duty to recover the school to its reining glory. She was going to try, that's what she was going to do. Try.

She had swallowed thickly, though nevertheless had held her head high. The thoughts inflicted heavy impact, but it was thoroughly valued for it hid her insecurities about returning to prestigious Hogwarts.

Her lean, cold fingers seized the hem of her dark, faded sweater that Mrs. Weasley had wholeheartedly presented her the previous Christmas. It was one of Hermione's most favorite articles of clothing she had owned for she grasped the sweet value disguised within it. Every centimeter of the clothing was more than adequately woven with the deepest care attended to it. Mrs. Weasley's determination on creating numerous sweaters was endearing for every single sweater consisted of Mrs. Weasley's love. Hermione was certain of it. It was a mighty damn fine present. She would never understand Ron's mild distaste for the gift. The sweater was the closest object that she would deem as a reminder of home. Oh, how she fondly missed her home.

Hermione missed the heavy, unmistakably known scent of her mother's crispy omelette, finding herself awaken with a pleasurable growl emitting from her stomach. She could recall her father calling out softly for her to come down for breakfast and of course, Hermione would merrily oblige to her father's wishes. When she arrived, her mother would plant a wet kiss on either side of her forehead and she would listen to her father's hearty chuckle whilst he commenced with a tasteful dream he had the previous night. Then, Hermione was granted permission to initiate the first bite of the day and nothing would depart from her mouth with the exception of genuine compliments to the cook.

She remembered their laughs. Their voice. Their appearance. Their smiles. Everything. Though, Hermione was to have none of it until she was given confirmation of their safety to know their own child again.

Her lips twisted as if she had tasted a wretched lemon, her eyes darting in a restive manner as she stepped forward. Ginny and her had just arrived at King's Cross with few minutes to spare much to Hermione's chagrin.

Ginny's hand had leaped for hers, dragging her shamelessly behind her. The bushy haired girl silently thanked the youngest Weasley for her minimal lack of concern towards others. They were nearly there. She was also appreciative of the fact that it was only the two of them whilst the others busied themselves with Order related activities.

"Hermione, come on!" Ginny uttered impatiently, yanking her slightly harder through the boisterous crowd. Though, Hermione's curiosity was simply not budging.

It wasn't her fault. Curiosity was the one fatal quality that Hermione held and could not get rid off. Her other qualities knew their limits, but curiosity merely didn't falter, jostling the boundary elsewhere.

Who was to be here? Who dared come to Hogwarts? There were a million thoughts running through her head, but it seemed that those two were the only ones able to stir a reaction out of Hermione.

Her eyes shifted from several stirring bodies, but she never once turned her head to face another direction. Her peripheral vision were the one exerting itself to fulfill her curiosity and to avoid angering Ginny.

Seamus Finnigan, Cho Chang, Blaise Zabini, and Luna were there among themselves. None of them bided a wave, though she had seen a flicker of modest delight in Luna's crystal blue eyes. She had spotted a few restless fifth and sixth years with few others to the years below them.

Her brows furrowed as the younger ones were drew close towards their parents. She could fondly recall when she was a first year, nearly bouncing from exhilaration, simply waiting to escape from her parents' tendier clutches. Seems as if the altercations in their surroundings were affecting them. Hermione couldn't blame them, though she felt a large twinge of sympathy for the little ones.

She sighed and resumed her search. Hermione had detected numerous brunettes, one redhead who wasn't a Weasley surprisingly, and a flash of pallid, blond hair.

Malfoy? Draco Malfoy was here?

The thought of the haughty ferret at Hogwarts shocked her to no end. She had presumed from Harry's words that he had already was recruiting others to be fellow Death Eaters or he were lying six feet under the ground. And, if he were, he probably demanded for the highest, meritorious coffin there was available.

"Prat," she muttered under her breath.

Though, the mention of Draco Malfoy made her unwillingly turn her head.

She very well did herself a gracious favor by doing so.

Malfoy presented himself quite casually without a hint of a single flaw notable. His sleek white-blond hair was slicked back without excessive effort. He wore another one of his costly, black suits which fit his entire body quite firmly. Draco's doleful eyes struck a peculiar resemblance to the aggressive skies as of late and were directed towards the others before him, tapping his foot restlessly. The ferret's cheeks were slimmed due to his decrease of weight, highlighting his lofty cheekbones. Though, despite his sharp, defined appearance would be deemed as incredibly fair, you couldn't exclude the eerie, grayish color that tainted the edges of his face. A stubborn, crease line laid firmly between his eyebrows as he displayed dark, prominent circles underneath his eyes; all had indicated which level of stress he was placed in. His pinkish lips were thinned crossly, his arms brought up, folded haughtily against his puffed chest. Hermione would categorize him as one of the handsome, suitable ones if she didn't know him already as an insufferable git. But, unfortunately she knew him. Boy, did it hurt her so.

The Slytherin caught her stare, blindly returning her gaze. It was as if they couldn't move nor speak. The redhead nuisance and the shoving elbows were vanished as both stared mindlessly, leaving a dark impression on either side.

It was just the two of them. Odd.

King's Cross grew unknowingly barren. Just the daunting Slytherin and the wise Gryffindor. Despite their distance, she could spot his stormy, wild pupils thicken as his eyes stated his befuddlement. She had no doubt, her eyes read confusion as well. His jaw clenched in distaste.

He was the first to shatter the increasing tension by pursuing a very Malfoy-like action.

"You lot are wasting my valuable time over a petty argument. For fuck's sakes, move!" Malfoy growled, shoving two stunned fourth years aside, so that he was able to enter the train.

Draco Malfoy was still the arrogant bastard from the previous years. Not much has changed for him, so it seems.

She felt another impatient tug on her wrist, causing her to flinch reflexively. "Ginny!" She warned, her tone entirely disapproving.

Ginny threw her a frown. "You're the one who was irritated at me for having the both of us nearly late!"

"Right," Hermione replied, her eyes fazed. She shook her head, following Ginny shortly afterwards. The both of them ventured towards the right of the hall, tiredly finding one compartment filled and then was revealed that the next seven filled.

The redhead sighed in relief spotting two available seats beside Neville and Seamus. The two older boys sported small, grim smiles which the both of them had returned jadedly.

"Hello," Neville piped. He didn't altercate in the physical category at all. His dark brown eyebrows raised at the both of them. Neville's eyes pooled with clear distress, his stance lean as he curved to rest his forearms onto the table. He was already dressed in his robes, striking Hermione as odd.

Seamus offered a weak wave. Whilst Neville had not changed, Seamus had grown incredibly distinct from his features in sixth year. He had grown exceptionally defined in his arms, the muscles peeking out from his white shirt. Though despite his muscular enhancement, he had still consisted of a lean, tilted posture. His facial disposition mimicked Neville's, almost frighteningly so. His gaze was casted downwards towards his fiddling thumbs. His light, hazel eyes were sad. Simply sad. Seamus wasn't the only one.

"Hello," Ginny and Hermione replied in a unison.

"How've you two been?" Seamus asked, almost genuinely. Either way, the both of them had appreciated the concern.

The two girl's eyes flickered towards each other for a sheer second. "Horrid as usual," Hermione said, shrugging awkwardly.

Neville silently watched the tedious conversation between the three. "We should..." he commenced.

"Hell, we might as well shift the awkwardness elsewhere this conversation so we're able to enjoy it," the redhead had finished for him.

Neville and Seamus broke out into amused simpers, leaving Hermione behind to sulk.

Deep, discreet in her mind, she was analyzing the oddities of her dream which had left her pondering. Pondering and pondering.

The dark figure interested her. Occupied her curiosity for the majority of the time being. And, her curiosity was a laborious task to accomplish. Hermione simply wanted to know what or who the figure was.

The others divulged themselves into talk about Quidditch, Neville piping in every other sentence or so with facts he did know. Hermione had remained silent, though adding thoughts that crossed her mind every now and then into the conversation.

"Where's Ron and Harry?" Finnigan had inquired outlandishly, grinding his teeth together in anticipation.

Ginny swallowed dryly. Hermione's attention averted towards the Irish Chaser, tight lipped. Neville stared.

She had opened and closed her mouth. Then, opened and closed her mouth. Then had opened a final time. "They left," Hermione retorted simply.

Seamus blinked. "Oh."

The awkward tension recurred, only the subtle sound of the passengers breathing. The four of them continued to gaze blankly at the window.

The bushy brunette was the first to cut the silence. "Why do you think Malfoy's here? Would of presumed he was reigning alongside his father."

Ginny froze slightly, then resumed her gaze towards the window. "Don't know."

"Odd, isn't it?" Neville added.

"I suppose he was exhausted from having given the position to be You-Know-Who's bitch and returned to school."

"Seamus!" Hermione scolded wholeheartedly, a smile tugging at her lips, waiting to be broken free.

"Come off it, 'Mione. I agree with Seamus," Ginny smirked subtlety, though never turned from the window. Her posture was stiff.

Seamus puffed his chest. "He speaks his mind," Neville pointed out, rolling his eyes at his friend's choice of words.

"Glad to know you haven't changed, Finnigan." The brunette arched a brow.

The four of them smiled.

**HOGWARTS**

"We're here," Hermione breathed.

Ginny glanced at her, perturbed at her distressed frown. Of course, Hermione would be worried. It was one of the several traits Hermione possessed. Though, others didn't technically perceive all her traits as fortunate ones.

The redhead did not respond to her. Both girls simply dragged themselves towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

The Head Girl had already been introduced to the Head Boy and Hermione wasn't surprised at who was bestowed the position. Blaise Zabini. A pureblood, Slytherin in 7th year who was now going to be partners with a muggleborn.

Honestly, Hermione expected a curt remark concerning her blood status from Zabini when she met him officially as a Head Boy, though it appeared as everyone has varied in their beliefs over the summer. He was a kind enough bloke despite his choice of friends.

She observed carefully at the Slytherin end before resuming the regular seats she had sat in before with Harry and Ron. Though, it was only Neville, Seamus, and Ginny who sat alongside her now.

Merlin's beard, she missed the two of them.

Everyone wished the two to come back well and healthy, though none of them wished for their return as much as Ginny and Hermione. In spite of Ginny's lack of sentiment displayed when Harry and Ron were brought as the center of anyone's discussion, Hermione was the one that was reining in undiscovered information. Hermione was one of the scarce few who were allowed to unfold the incessant complexities that were Ginny Weasley.

Harry and Ron sent them one, brief parchment with few words scrawled untidily. Though it were few words, it was concise and was enough to last them for a few minutes.

_We're safe. We'll be back soon. Don't reply._

_ Love you and miss you both._

_ Ron & Harry_

Ginny kept the note for the sake of salvaging what was left of her sanity despite Hermione's yearning for the note herself. Hedwig had left promptly as soon as he delivered the note, leaving Hermione and Ginny no time to properly thank and plead the owl to deliver a note of their own in spite of what Ron had written.

Hermione had sighed again for what seemed like the fifth time since they arrived.

Neville sighed as well. Sighing had higher demand than a highly, infectious disease, so it seemed. "When do you think-"

Interrupted by Professor Snape himself. Though, you couldn't exactly call him a 'professor' anymore.

"Good evening," he said, his lip curling as his cold eyes swept across the crowd. "It comes to my knowledge that I have recently been awarded the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts."

_What? _Hermione blanched.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Hope you enjoy! **

**Just to clear this up, Hermione has hallucinations and dreams about a certain someone, but she just can't see him. Just the outline of him and the rest is dark.**

**Reviews give me motivation. Review please! Just want to know if I should continue this story.**

Hermione couldn't say having Snape as Headmaster was a matter to celebrate, but her parents always made her abide by a certain rule: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Despite her ache to always follow the rule, she couldn't disregard the relief she felt when she broke the rule.

Though, if she were forced to say that she enjoyed abiding by Snape's regulations, Hermione would be disrespecting herself if she did so.

After her minor rant about the absurdity with who received the position of the new Headmaster, (which Ginny had to helplessly endure) she resumed to her schedule. The routine was dull and monotonous to the point of no return. Days have crudely passed and not one of them were capable of detecting a glimpse of information about the Order's activities.

It was ludicrous, though Hermione fully well comprehended the complexities of the situation. It was far to risky for even a tiny shred of knowledge concerning their plans to be roaming around the corridors of Hogwarts. You never knew when someone was listening.

Even with rational reasons to explicate their irked status, Hermione couldn't resist the aggravating knots in her stomach and the questions that rose in her head, impatiently waiting for their answers.

Instead, she did herself a well earned favor. She was to release her stress the only successful method she knew how.

The brunette needed to read. So, she sought after the library.

It probably wasn't best for her to venture towards the library as of late, considering the patent circumstances, but she was safe for tonight. The odds were in her favor for tonight as a belated present.

Hermione huffed, gathered her robes of the floor, and vacantly stared as the portrait swung open for her.

The portrait displayed a man wearing a pattered, bright red kilt, sporting a haughty frown as a goat beside him laid idly. She could faintly recall Ronald's face after she briefly explained the reason for the kilt.

She muffled her quiet laughter with her sleeve, her eyes trailing upwards to the entrance of the library.

The lofty man eyed her accusingly, but nevertheless had resumed to his ordinary state. Every time, she had encountered the portrait, the duo were always resting. Hermione waved apologetically towards the man, and hurriedly started for the opposing direction.

The entrance wasn't considered grand in comparison to the other doorways in Hogwarts. Hermione presumed the doorway wasn't a matter to dote on for it didn't matter the exterior of the library, just what consisted inside of it.

The brunette headed directly for the Magical Creatures section. Her lean fingers smoothing over the rugged spines of the books, plucking out every, single book that ignited interest in her, accumulating a sufficient amount of books from Hermione's standards.

She did her best to retain the stillness despite her struggle to mutely place the books onto the table beside her.

The book flew upon much to Hermione's delight. Positioning her stiff finger underneath the word she was on, the bushy girl gently propped her head onto her curled fist.

Her eyelids drooped jadedly, begging for release as her eyes persevered and forced them wide open despite their protests. The aching regions of her body, sluggishly took their time as they eased themselves. Eventually, she was at a content state of comfort.

"Granger?"

Hermione's head had whipped towards the source of the quizzical voice. So much for relaxation.

"Malfoy?"

**HOGWARTS**

_"Then you should of settled in your dormitories instead of childishly clinging to me when I told you I was headed for the library," Hermione reprimanded lightheartedly. "Honestly, you should of already presumed that I spent at least a healthy hour of my time here."_

_ "Granger, you've outstayed the average limit for a person to be at the library. I understood that that bush," he pointed towards her hazel curls, "could probably consume another grand shitload of information, but that certainly doesn't mean you have to spend all your rudy time here. I have more practical ways to fulfill our time," the young man had wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, resultantly cause Hermione to suppress her protruding smile. _

_ He could still afford to crack a joke despite the condition they were in. _

_ "I recall saying I spend at least one hour here. It's barely been thirty minutes."_

_ "Thirty minutes, my arse," he snorted. _

_ She didn't even witness the innocent waggling of his brows due to his appearance, but compiled involuntarily. Instead, she smacked his forearm at his shameless innuendo, though didn't contribute to her benefit, much to her chagrin. _

_ She presumed he was sporting a flirtatious grin, but that was all she was given. Just the mere feeling of his delight with no sign of his disclosure. He was just an dark outline, a substantial figment of her hallucination. It was as if she was reliving a heartfelt memory. Discreetly, Hermione was throbbing with anxiety. Her thirst for knowledge had irked her, commanding her to uncover the man behind the dark mask._

_ Though, again she had done nothing._

_Her tone was cross, though her eyes had given her away within a fraction of a second. She couldn't hide anything from him, even if she tried. "I have no intention of fulfilling _**_your _**_needs tonight."_

_ "Is that so?" He commenced. She could practically feel the broadening smirk, though she had firmly kept her gaze upon her book. The young man used his current state to his full advantage as he hoisted her upwards to have her settled comfortably on his lap._

_ Hermione squirmed, weakly endeavoring for the removal of his unyielding arms. Though, both of them very well knew she wasn't going anywhere._

_ "We can't do this here. It's the library, M-" she was curtly cut off by a familiar pair of soft, tender lips. _

**HOGWARTS**

Her eyes enlarged, the rim of her nails digging sorely onto the edge of the mahogany table. The edge of her pink cheeks grew blatantly greyish as it crept inward, eventually engulfing her entire face with its abnormality. What was left of her rationality and sanity appeared to trod away, in search of a more suitable owner. The confused brunette's vision was betraying her again; it was as fatally smooth as a liar's tongue.

_She was left with so many questions with so no answers to match. _

"Granger, what are you on about?" Malfoy's words had disrupted her once more.

Lips thinned, eyes trained on the sentence she was previously on, she simply responded with, "What are you doing here, Malfoy? Aren't you supposed to be in your quarters?"

His eyes narrowed. "I should be asking you the same thing, filth. Though, I suspect your Head Girl privileges permit you to be here. Don't know what the rudy school was thinking when they awarded that bushy head of yours the position."

She merely rolled her eyes in response. By then, her cheeks had returned to her ordinary shade of pink with her fingers curled anxiously by her side.

_Just forget it, Hermione. It was probably nothing. It's simply late at night. You just need some rest, _Hermione silently reassured herself. Draco Malfoy's presence was certainly not a factor for her reassuring process.

"Same discriminating words. I think they've lost their touch, don't you think?" Hermione wore a wry smile, though didn't return his searing stare. It practically were burning holes into Hermione's side. "I'm deducting points from Slytherin because of your late night stroll. I think it's best if you return to your bed."

She had swerved her entire body to face the eyes she had so desperately desired to evade. Hermione didn't have any time to be quarreling with the ferret. There were matters much worse at hand. Even so, with this rational reason at her fingertips, Hermione couldn't disregard the creeping urge to even glance at him.

An innocent peek at him was all it took.

And with that innocent peek, Hermione could not even attempt to disguise her sheer disgust.

Even if the general population of women with an occasional male here and there perceived Malfoy as 'attractive' and practically swooned at the mere mention of his name, she would still defiantly choose a ferret instead of Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes glazed with expectance, though her aggravation didn't mind being displayed for the blond.

"I'll stay her as long as I see bloody fit, Mudblo-" Malfoy's breath shortened, struggling to finish the word through strained lips. His hand wavered before his chapped lips, swallowing as demented eyes caught nettled ones.

She arched a brow curiously. Though, the blond had roughly recovered before she could open her mouth. The intensity of his relentless stare was nipping at where his stare had settled on her skin.

"Fuck off, Granger," he sneered.

Hermione took in her lower lip, gnawing on her pink flesh, refraining herself from casting a hex on the taunting blond.

She pushed to her feet. Despite the safe distance between them, the heat emitting from their bodies cause both to flush profusely. The Gryffindor seized the edge of her wand instinctively, furrowing her brows together.

"I said," she had enunciated clearly, the words biting into the tension in the air, "that it'd be best if you returned to your quarters."

His jaw clenched at her order as she loosened the grip on her wand. Malfoy wouldn't do anything to her tonight. Though then again, it was Malfoy. So, she resumed to tightening her hold on the gentle wand.

Malfoy released a foreboding bark of laughter, bitter amusement shimmering in his steel-grey eyes. Oh, how she wished she could punch away any smirk or sneer that he would expose in the future. Apparently, the previous hit he had suffered several years ago wasn't enough of a reminder. Hermione would gladly admonish the Slytherin with a more fresh, impressionable reminder.

She could even spot the prominent vein bulging near his collar bone through the musky darkness. The vein had discreetly pleased Hermione, though his eyes neglected any remaining feelings of amusement she obtained.

Malfoy's simper broadened as his eyes followed where her hand was placed threateningly upon. "Going to use an Unforgivable on me, Granger?" He paused. "Let's see it then."

Hermione blanched, her grimace worming her way to her lips. "Come off it, Malfoy," she snapped. _"Stop it."_

"Make me," he taunted impishly, shamelessly goading the brunette on. The corner of his lips were curled upwards as he took a single step towards her. Her breath shortened. He had darted his tongue to swipe the edges of his lips.

"You are a coward," she uttered, spinning her heel as she aimed for the door. Hermione had sought after the library having to intention to relieve stress, but due to a certain interruption, it didn't benefit her whatsoever.

The little intervene with the Slytherin caused her to discard of the odd hallucination she was forced to endure, though it didn't appear to stall her inquiring mind for much longer.

The arrogant young man shook his head. "Go and leave. It's not as if we won't find you eventually," he chuckled darkly, his words laced with dreaded malice as his stormy eyes struggled to secrete his sadness.

Hermione didn't respond.

**HOGWARTS**

Blaise curled his lip. "You didn't fucking say anything."

It wasn't a question. It fit more in the category of Blaise giving himself a reassuring statement.

"Of course, I didn't say anything. You're the daft one between the both of us anyway."

His dark, coal eyes glared. "Shut it, Weasley. If you say anything to her, I'll personally kill your pathetic excuse of a brother. More like pathetic excuse of a family, if I were to be more accurate."

The redhead's eyes flared, her nose centimeters away from the proud Slytherin. She held no visible hint of fear, though felt her fingers tremble slightly before she hurriedly enclosed them into fists.

Perhaps, deciding to meet in the Shrieking Shack provided Ginny with a fortunate opportunity. Nobody would presume any odd activity if they heard a shrill scream from the Shrieking Shack.

"Threatening me won't save you, prat. Neither will it save your mother," Ginny breathed, swallowing hard.

Blaise whipped out his wand from his cloak, the edge of it urging her threateningly. Though, the Gryffindor did not falter. She didn't even breathe as she slowly withdrew her wand blatantly, staring merciless into his eyes.

"Better decide against it. They both have a better chance of surviving if we're both alive," Ginny spat reluctantly. "I recall you still have your mild infatuation with Luna, right? If I'm correct, then it's best if you don't murder one of her friends, and unintentionally have Hermione killed next."

"Fine, bloodtraitor," the young man had grunted. "Do your best to watch over her and I'll do my best to watch over Draco."

She smiled ruefully. "That was the original plan, Zabini."

The youngest Weasley spun her heel, gliding towards the door with Blaise's stare burning holes through her back. She subtly turned her head towards the side.

"Try not to get us both killed along the way though."

**Revieeeeews?**


End file.
